


The Great Escape

by barbitone



Series: Captive Prince Fanfiction [19]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: BAMF Berenger (Captive Prince), Canon Typical Warnings, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, POV Berenger (Captive Prince), Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22366540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbitone/pseuds/barbitone
Summary: Everything was mostly going to plan, right up until the Regent ordered his pet to be executed and his severed head to be sent to Prince Laurent.It happened at noon. The castle was so abuzz with the shocking news that even Berenger, who usually didn’t hear such gossip until late in the evening when Ancel helped him dress for dinner, had heard of the horrific event within the hour.His heart sank as he thought of that poor boy, just a child-And then his heart sank further, because he knew he and Ancel would be next.
Relationships: Ancel/Berenger (Captive Prince)
Series: Captive Prince Fanfiction [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1455904
Comments: 95
Kudos: 230





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Aka Berenger and Ancel go on the road trip from hell

* * *

Everything was mostly going to plan, right up until the Regent ordered his pet to be executed and his severed head to be sent to Prince Laurent.

It happened at noon. The castle was so abuzz with the shocking news that even Berenger, who usually didn’t hear such gossip until late in the evening when Ancel helped him dress for dinner, had heard of the horrific event within the hour.

His heart sank as he thought of that poor boy, just a child-

And then his heart sank further, because he knew he and Ancel would be next.

Berenger returned to his rooms in a stupor, not sure what to do. He’d sent Parsins and the rest of his retinue back to Varenne after the Prince had left for the border. He hadn’t wanted to put them at risk, not while he knew that his guard wouldn’t stand a chance against the Regent’s men if they ever came to take him. So he was alone in Arles, except for Ancel.

Ancel might not have heard yet. He had a habit of sleeping late, so Berenger rushed to open the door to his room only to find it empty. The bed was neatly made, and although most of Ancel’s clothing was still hanging in the wardrobe, his jewelry was gone.

He was gone.

Berenger felt weak with relief and deep down- sorrow. He’d always known his support of the Prince might lead him down the path to ruin, but he’d still hoped-

At least he’d be the only one suffering now.

He didn’t have the strength to do anything but sit down heavily at his writing desk, staring at the blank pieces of parchment before him, the half-finished correspondences. He didn’t know how long he sat there, but finally he picked up a quill and trimmed it methodically. Once he was finished, he dipped it into his ink pot and pulled over the closest piece of parchment to write his last will and testament.

He doubted any of his wishes would be followed, but he wrote anyway. That was the only thing he could do. By the time he finished and set down the quill the light was failing. He hadn’t bothered to light a candle.

He could only sit, stunned and frozen, until the door to his chambers opened and a young man strode in. Berenger didn’t recognize him in the dim light of the setting sun trickling through the windows. The man was dressed in the plain clothes of a servant, his hair a mess of lank blond locks that fell into his eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” the man hissed in Ancel’s voice.

Berenger jerked. “Ancel?”

Ancel made a frustrated grunt as he looked around the room. “You’re not even packed? What are you thinking?”

“I-” Berenger started. Ancel shouldn’t be here. He’d thought Ancel had gone.

“Get up,” Ancel ordered, so Berenger stood. “You can’t wear that. Here.” He shoved a bag into Berenger’s hands that he’d had slung over his back. Berenger took it and looked inside to find clothing- plain leathers and traveling clothes, nondescript and well worn.

“Hurry up!” Ancel said. “Where do you keep your coin?”

“Bedroom,” Berenger managed.

“Good,” Ancel said. “Get dressed. _Quickly.”_ He breezed off into Berenger’s bedroom and returned with a small sack of gold, only to growl furiously and hurry over to where Berenger was still standing frozen by his desk.

“What is the _matter_ with you!” Ancel demanded, his pale fingers a flash of movement over Berenger’s laces. He yanked Berenger’s doublet off and away, the harsh jerk of it enough to snap Berenger back to his senses. His hands were shaking as he moved to unlace his pants while Ancel dropped to his knees to divest him of his boots.

Things went faster after that. Berenger put on a pair of simple woolen breeches and riding boots, a plain linen shirt and a leather jerkin. Ancel even went so far as to muss his hair and rub a bit of dirt over his cheek.

“Good,” Ancel said, stepping back and taking the bag he’d brought the clothes in, filling it instead with the satchel of coin and a few of the more valuable things Berenger kept on his desk- a silver inkpot, a gold letter opener, a few other trinkets. Berenger went to fetch his bracers and his dirk, his dagger.

“Come on,” Ancel said once he’d finished.

“My sword-” Berenger started.

“Forget your sword,” Ancel said in annoyance. “You’re pretending to be a peasant now. Peasants don’t carry swords. Come on.”

He led the way not to the door but to the balcony. They climbed down into the gardens and Berenger could only follow as Ancel led them confidently down twisting paths. Night had fallen but dinner had not yet been served. The gardens were mostly empty. On the somber day of Nicaise’s execution, they may remain empty even after the nightly revels of the court.

Ancel took them to one of the smaller gates, manned only by one guard, who jerked to attention at their approach.

“Who goes there?” he demanded, squinting.

“Thank god it’s you on watch, Frederic,” Ancel breathed out, his voice full of relief and desire. Berenger heard the false note in it, but clearly the guard did not. 

“Ancel?” the guard asked, suddenly uncertain.

“Oh Frederic,” Ancel said, moving to take the guard by his upper arms. “Frederic please- you have to help me.”

“What’s the matter?” Frederic asked, holding Ancel by the waist. He was blushing. Ancel wasn’t.

“It’s horrible,” Ancel moaned. “I’m so afraid. The Regent is furious with my master, so he’s run off and left me here all alone.”

“That bastard,” Frederic hissed. Finally he managed to spare a glance at Berenger, though there was no recognition in his eyes. “Who-”

“He’s my guard,” Ancel said quickly, leaning closer to bring the guard's attention back to his distraught face. “I had to hire someone, I couldn’t make it out there on my own.”

“Oh Ancel,” Frederic said. “I’ll come with you. I’ll-”

“You can’t,” Ancel said. “I can’t ask you to put yourself at risk like that. Please- just let us through and pretend you never saw us. Please won’t you do that for me?”

“But I-”

“It’s the best thing for everyone,” Ancel said, gazing soulfully into the man’s eyes. “Please. Frederic- I’ll get on my knees and beg if I must.”

“No, you don’t have to-” Frederic threw a nervous glance at Berenger before moving to brush Ancel’s hair out of his face. “Of course I’ll let you through. Be careful.”

“Yes,” Ancel said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yes, I will. Thank you. You’re saving my life.”

The guard pulled away reluctantly and turned to unlock the gate. “Take care of him,” he said harshly to Berenger as they went through. Berenger could only manage a stunned nod before Ancel took him by the wrist and was hurrying him out onto the bustling streets.

“What was that about?” Berenger asked.

Ancel threw him a narrow-eyed glare, the pleading tenderness wiped from his face as though it had never been. He looked so strange with his hair cut and dyed, wearing the simple garments of a servant, that Berenger couldn’t stop staring at him.

“A contingency plan,” Ancel said. “Along with Philipe on the southeast gate, and Marc in the armory, and Savin in the kitchens. Now hurry up, they’ll be coming after us soon.”

“We need horses,” Berenger said, looking around. “I own a stable on the edge of the city. We can-”

“No,” Ancel said. “Don’t be stupid. Tonight we’ll lay low. They’ll send soldiers to all your holdings, maybe riders on the roads. Tomorrow, once they’re sure we’ve already gone, we can leave for real.”

“Alright,” Berenger said. “Do you know a place?”

“You won’t like it,” Ancel said, but he was grinning. His smile was the first bit of brightness Berenger had experienced during that awful day. Somehow, his heart felt lighter.

“Come on,” Ancel said, squeezing Berenger’s wrist before letting go and taking off into the night. Berenger followed. It seemed he’d lost everything, but somehow- he hadn’t lost Ancel.

* * *

Ancel took them to a brothel. Not just that- a brothel full of _women._ He threw Berenger a wicked glance, his eyebrows raised, but Berenger made a point not to react. He’d gladly spend the night in a house of ill-repute if it meant he and Ancel would live to see the dawn.

There was a hidden room in the cellar, tiny but warm. Certainly comfortable enough for one night. Berenger slept fitfully with Ancel curled up beside him. 

Berenger hadn’t seen the boy’s execution but his nightmares painted a vivid picture nevertheless. Sometimes it was Laurent under the headsman's axe. Sometimes it was Ancel.

Berenger woke in a cold sweat to a knock on the door and shook Ancel awake, who batted at him with a weak grumble. The knock came again and Ancel rose to answer it. The mistress of the brothel was on the other side and she spoke to Ancel in a hushed voice before leaving.

“It’s time,” Ancel said and Berenger rose to his feet.

They ate a quick breakfast and Ancel traded some of their coin for supplies- food and cloaks, flint and some basic tools, a pair of bedrolls.

They were back on the streets as the sun rose in the sky, moving quickly towards the eastern gate. They didn’t stop for horses or anything else. Thanks to Ancel, they looked the part of simple travelers and made it through the gate without trouble.

And then they were walking on the open road and Berenger had so many questions crowding his thoughts that he couldn’t manage to voice any of them. At nightfall they made camp, finding a secluded spot off the road. Ancel laid out their bedrolls while Berenger went off to collect firewood, still shocked that this was happening at all.

He returned to find Ancel sitting on the ground and staring off into the distance.

“Well?” Ancel asked after Berenger had lowered his collection of sticks and broken logs. “Make a fire.”

Berenger flushed, staring down at the materials. He’d never made a fire before, never needed to. He’d always had servants, guards. He’d always had someone to do it for him. Now, he wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. He felt ashamed as he tried to arrange the sticks into something like what he’d seen around hunting camps, at cooking fires when he’d been at war. It didn’t seem quite right and Ancel hissed angrily, grabbing the flint from his hand when he first tried to light a spark.

“You’re joking,” Ancel hissed, rearranging the branches and using his own knife to strip thin curls of wood off some of the driest pieces Berenger had been able to find to make kindling. He had a fire going in the next few minutes while Berenger could only watch, trying to write this moment to memory and not quite succeeding. All he could think about was Laurent kneeling over the headsman's block. Ancel, shoved to his knees and forced to do the same while the Regent watched with cold cruel eyes.

They ate a simple supper of bread and cheese before Ancel yawned and curled up into his bedroll.

“I’ll keep watch,” Berenger said.

“Wake me when it’s my turn,” Ancel said before his breathing evened out into sleep.

Berenger didn’t wake him. He was too sick to sleep anyway. At least one of them should get some rest.

In the morning they smothered the smoking embers and kept going, reaching a small village by midday.

“Horses,” Berenger said when Ancel tried to hurry them through.

“Fine,” Ancel said, letting Berenger take them to a stable.

After a brief conversation with the stablemaster Berenger walked past the available mounts, wary. These horses were not good stock, draft horses at best. He must have dithered long enough that Ancel got restless, taking him by the elbow and leading him away.

“We’re not looking for a prize stallion,” Ancel said, his eyes flashing. “We just need a pair of dumb beasts to take us home!”

Berenger could only nod. He felt so out of his element like this, running for his life, pretending to be a peasant. He selected two decent mares that would serve them well and managed to haggle the owner down to something respectable.

The price of the horses plus their tack easily used up half their remaining coin and Berenger couldn’t help worrying. Money had never been a problem for him before, that’s why he didn’t keep much on him. It was certainly a problem now. But if everything went well, they’d be fine from here on out. They had enough money and supplies that if they kept to the villages, they might be able to make it to the border of Vere without much trouble. Somehow, it would have to do.

Berenger felt easier on a horse, though Ancel’s mood grew darker. They spent the next week going from town to town, sleeping and eating at cheap inns and taverns as they went. Berenger still had nightmares, but Ancel’s proximity seemed to quell them somewhat.

At the end of the week they were traveling south on a dirt road when Ancel pulled sharply back on his reins, frowning.

“What is it?” Berenger asked, stopping his own horse.

“We’re going south, aren’t we,” Ancel said. He pushed his blond fringe out of his eyes and squinted at the sky, then the road. “Why are we going south? Varenne is to the east. I thought we were going home.”

“We can’t,” Berenger said quietly.

“What do you mean we can’t?” Ancel demanded.

“It’s the first place they’ll look for me. For us.”

Ancel glowered, his eyes flashing with anger. “But- but then- we’ll go around the fort, or- or _something._ You’re so- bland! No one will recognize us. We’ll just- just-”

“They’ll recognize me in Varenne,” Berenger said quietly.

“Your people love you!”

“But some will be swayed by coin. It’s not safe- for us or for them.”

“So what now!”

“I don’t know,” Berenger said with a wince. He felt so lost, his only thoughts had been of running.

“What do you mean you don’t know!” Ancel yelled. “You’re supposed to know! You’re supposed to- supposed to-”

“I’m sorry,” Berenger said.

“Fuck your sorry,” Ancel hissed. “I can’t believe I threw my lot in with _you.”_

“...Why did you?” Berenger asked quietly.

Ancel glared and opened his mouth, only to close it again. He licked his lips uncertainly, and that was when they heard the hoofbeats.

“Damn,” Berenger cursed, looking around. They were on a deserted road in the middle of a field with no place to run or hide. 

But at least Ancel had been right when he’d said that Berenger was plain. Few people in Vere really knew him well enough to recognize him like this- road weary and dressed in dusty leathers.

He turned to see half a dozen soldiers coming upon them and took his horse’s reins in hand when she shied nervously under him, trying to stay calm.

“Easy,” he said, just as much to Ancel as to the horse.

He waited for a few tense minutes as the riders approached, then greeted them with a raised hand and a neutral nod.

“Dismount,” the leader said coldly once his men had stopped.

Berenger climbed off his horse, nodding for Ancel to follow.

“We’ve orders from the Crown to check travelers,” the leader said, dismounting too.

“I wasn’t aware Prince Laurent could give orders before his ascension,” Berenger couldn’t help retorting. Ancel drew closer and gripped his arm in warning.

The leader of the knights glared. “Prince Laurent is a traitor,” he said with a sniff of disgust. “The Regent’s word is law in these lands.”

“I see,” Berenger forced himself to say as he watched the knights search their saddlebags, tossing their belongings to the ground.

“What’s this?” one asked, holding up the bag with the remains of their money.

“My master’s a merchant,” Ancel spoke up. “Those are our profits from the season.”

“Is that so,” the knight said gleefully, poking through the satchel. “Seems like… quite a lot.”

“We had a good season,” Berenger said stiffly.

“So you did,” the leader said with a smirk. “I’m sure you won’t mind donating your earnings to the Crown. You are loyal, are you not?”

“How dare you!” Ancel exclaimed, stepping forward. “We need that to eat- to _live._ To invest in goods for next season-”

The leader backhanded him hard over the face and Ancel fell to the ground with a shocked gasp. He must have cut his lip on his teeth from the strength of the blow- the shallow wound was bleeding sluggishly.

Berenger felt hot all over as he took a step forward to put himself between Ancel and the knight, his hand twitching over the handle of his dirk. The knights laughed.

“We’ll take the gold,” the leader said. “And the horses. And this boy- your apprentice? Maybe we’ll take him too. A special treat.” His eyes were dark as he stared at where Ancel sat sprawled over the ground, glaring as he raised his hand to wipe the blood off his chin.

Berenger felt furious and terrified, and for a brief visceral moment he pictured himself burying his dirk deep in the man’s neck. But then there would still be five left, and it was unlikely that he could defeat them all. They’d simply kill him and take Ancel anyway, and that was just- unthinkable.

“As you like,” he said, trying to keep his voice cold and disinterested. “So long as you don’t mind catching the pox. Or worse.”

“Excuse me?” the leader asked, looking back at him.

“We’ve been on the road two weeks without bathing,” Berenger said. “He’s had bloody flux for the past three days. If you want to stick your cock in him, do it at your own risk.”

The leader’s lips curled down in disgust.

“His mouth looks fine,” a different knight ventured petulantly.

“His mouth is full of sores,” Berenger countered. “Do you want to see for yourselves? Boy, open your mouth-”

“No,” the leader said with a shake of his head. “No- we move on. Thank you for your… contribution.” He smirked before climbing on his horse, and they were gone as quick as they came.

Berenger waited until they were out of sight to turn and offer Ancel his hand.

Ancel slapped it away to stand on his own.

“How gallant,” he spit out. “Maybe next time you’ll tell them I have syphilis.”

“What did you expect me to do?” Berenger asked, suddenly exhausted. “Defeat six knights on my own with only a dirk and a dagger?”

Ancel simply frowned. “Let’s keep going,” he muttered and turned to walk away.

* * *

They made camp in the woods that night. Ancel struggled to make a fire only to give up twenty minutes in with a curse.

“The wood is too damp,” he muttered, wiping fitfully at his eyes with his dirty sleeve. He sighed as he sat on the bedrolls Berenger had laid out. They were nearly out of supplies. They’d planned on spending the night in town but they hadn’t been able to reach it without horses.

Berenger wondered what they were going to do as he handed Ancel their last hunk of bread and cheese. They had no horses, no money, no plan. No idea what was happening with Laurent and the Regent.

“Here,” Ancel said sullenly and Berenger startled. Ancel was holding out the bread and cheese. He’d eaten exactly half of the meagre portion, barely enough for one man, much less two.

“It’s all for you,” Berenger said, his heart seizing painfully.

“I don’t want any more,” Ancel said, his eyes lowered to the ground. “I’m tired.” He shoved the food into Berenger’s hands before lying down on the bedroll with his back to Berenger.

Berenger ate in a stupor and then simply sat- staring off into the distance.

“I’m cold,” Ancel announced and Berenger turned to look at him, curled up on his bedroll with his cloak tucked around him. Ancel didn’t look back. 

Of course he’d be cold without a fire. Berenger didn’t think he’d be getting much sleep that night so he moved to take the other bedroll and drape it over Ancel like a blanket.

Ancel sighed sharply, clenching his hands into fists. “Why are you such an idiot?” he said sharply. “Why can’t you _just-”_ His voice broke on the last word and he stopped with a shudder, covering his face with his hands.

Berenger didn’t know what to do and Ancel wasn’t saying anything else. Carefully, Berenger laid down beside him, moving close so they could share body heat. Ancel moved back a little so his back was pressed to Berenger’s chest. Taking that as a cue, Berenger wrapped his arm around Ancel’s waist, pulling him closer. Pressed together like this, he could feel Ancel trembling. His breathing was coming quickly, his heart pounding.

“It’s going to be alright,” Berenger whispered.

 _“How?”_ Ancel asked plaintively. In that moment he sounded so much younger than his twenty years that Berenger’s heart broke all over again. He’d gotten Ancel involved in all this and nearly gotten the both of them executed. Ancel was the one who’d gotten them safely out of Arles. Ancel had followed him faithfully through the countryside and in the meantime Berenger hadn’t offered him a single word of encouragement, or any other comfort or bit of hope. He’d been lost in his own worries, blind to Ancel falling apart beside him.

“We can’t go to Varenne,” Berenger said quietly, forcing himself to think through their troubles at last. “So we’ll continue south to Barbin. From the sound of it there’s fighting close to the border- the Prince’s troops and the Regent’s, and the Akielons on top of it all.” He bit his lip, his mind racing as he felt the beginning of a plan forming. “So we won’t go to the border. We’ll skirt Varenne and head east through Toutaine, towards Vask. I have- not friends, not exactly. Allies, perhaps. I’ve dealt with Vaskian tribes before, they’ll help us.”

Ancel was relaxing in his arms so Berenger leaned a little closer, burying his face in Ancel’s hair. It was more brittle now than before he’d dyed it- more dry. It still felt lovely against his skin. Ancel smelled of sweat and leather and horse. He probably hated it, but Berenger didn’t mind.

He wasn’t expecting it when Ancel turned so they were lying chest to chest and moved to tuck his head under Berenger’s chin.

“And then what?” he asked, pillowing his head on one arm while he wrapped the other around Berenger’s back.

“Then…” Berenger said, distracted by Ancel pressed against him. He shifted as he tried to get comfortable, sliding a thigh between Ancel’s legs mostly by accident. Ancel made a soft sound like a sigh, pressing closer. “Then- we’ll figure it out. If the Prince is victorious, we can return to Vere. If not- we’ll go south through the mountains, towards Patras. We can start a new life there.”

“We’ll be nobodies,” Ancel said, but there was a hint of a tease in his voice.

Berenger smiled and moved to stroke Ancel’s hair, slow and soothing. “Maybe,” he said. “But we’ll be alive and safe. We’ll be together. If it comes to it, we’ll figure something out. It could still be a good life. Not so lavish as it was before, but it could still be good.”

“Alright,” Ancel said, the tension gone from his voice and his body. “I suppose that might be- alright.”

Berenger kept stroking his hair until Ancel’s breathing evened out into deep sleep. He lay awake for a long time after, listening to the sounds of the forest. He could feel Ancel’s steady heartbeat where they were pressed together.

He was still afraid. They were still without supplies or money, in enemy territory. Their lives hung on a thin thread that could break at any moment. For now, at least, there seemed to be hope.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to [Salt_Queen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salt_Queen/) for betaing!!!

* * *

Berenger woke to Ancel sitting beside him. He’d taken off his coat and was cutting into the lining.

“Ancel?” Berenger asked.

As he watched, the fabric tore and Ancel reached inside to pull out the emerald necklace Berenger had gifted him when they’d first come to Arles.

Ancel stuffed the necklace into his boot before reaching into the lining of the coat again, pulling out the diamond earrings Berenger had given him, along with a few emerald and ruby rings.

“Here,” Ancel said, shoving some rings towards him. “Hide them well. If we have another run in with soldiers, they’ll be suspicious if they find jewels. We’ll reach the next town tonight and get horses and supplies. A real bed in an inn, hopefully.”

Berenger couldn’t help the besotted smile that spread over his face. This was something he’d never considered. Ancel had saved them once again. If he’d brought all his jewelry, that meant they had a small fortune at their disposal.

“Don’t just gawk,” Ancel said, standing. “We’d better get going.”

Berenger did most of the work packing up their things while Ancel went to a nearby stream to try and wash. It quickly turned out to be pointless. After several hours of walking down a dirt road, the skies opened up and they were drenched in icy rain. There was nowhere to take shelter, they were simply forced to keep walking through the onslaught.

Ancel rubbed at his arms, his teeth chattering as he kept pace with Berenger beside him. He felt awful to be putting Ancel through this, but there was nothing he could do.

The rain didn’t let up and soon Ancel was sneezing. It broke Berenger’s heart to hear it but Ancel didn’t complain. There wasn’t much point.

The sun started setting and they still hadn’t reached any town markers. Berenger was growing desperate. They couldn’t spend the night out in the open like this, not in the rain. Not with the way Ancel was shivering beside him. He couldn’t even give Ancel his cloak- all their things were soaked through.

“There,” he said at last, when the outline of a farmhouse came into view. “We’ll go ask for shelter-”

“N-n-no,” Ancel stuttered out. “It’s n-not s-safe-”

“Look at you, you’re freezing,” Berenger said gently. “We can’t spend the night in this. Come.”

He put a hand on Ancel’s lower back to urge him onwards, and soon they were at the door of the modest dwelling.

An older woman answered Berenger’s knock, peering at them suspiciously.

“We’re travelers,” Berenger started.

“Outlaws, more like,” the woman said, narrowing her eyes.

“No,” Berenger insisted. “We’re simple travelers, we met some trouble on the road. We just need a dry place to stay the night. Please, could you-”

“I’m not bringing trouble into my home,” she said. “Find somewhere else.”

She moved to close the door and Berenger hastily stuck his boot into the jam. “Please,” he tried again. “There’s nowhere else. My friend is ill. We’ll be gone by dawn.”

The woman didn’t seem convinced.

“We c-can p-p-pay,” Ancel said, digging his shaking hand into his pocket and pulling out an emerald ring.

The woman seemed intrigued but no less suspicious.

“It’s not coin,” she said, eyeing the ring.

“It’s worth sixty sol, at least,” Berenger said. “More than enough for room and board. One night. There’s nowhere else for us to go.”

She stared at them for a moment longer before snatching the ring out of Ancel’s pale hand. “You can sleep in the barn, out back,” she said and Berenger felt weak with relief. “Go on. I’ll bring you some dry things and a bite to eat. You’ll be gone by dawn.”

“Thank you,” Berenger managed before she unceremoniously shut the door in their faces.

The barn was musty and reeked of stale hay and manure. The ceiling was leaking in places, but there was a loft that was decently dry and clean. Berenger sent Ancel up with their things as he looked around. The woman arrived soon after with a bundle of cloth- dry clothing and a couple of moth-eaten blankets. She brought some jerky, too, along with stale bread and a flagon of ale.

“It’s the best I’ve got,” she said.

“Thank you,” Berenger replied, taking the offerings with a nod as she turned to go. He went back up to the loft to see Ancel struggling with the laces of his boots, his hands shaking too hard to manage it.

“I’ll help you,” Berenger said, laying out the blankets before coming closer. Ancel simply watched as Berenger undid his laces and pulled his boots off, wincing in sympathy when he saw how pale and pruney his toes were.

“We’ll get you warm in a moment,” he said reassuringly, stripping Ancel of the rest of his clothes before helping him into a dry tunic the woman had brought. “Have something to eat,” he said once he’d gotten Ancel settled on the blankets and his bare legs covered up. He busied himself with hanging their wet things over the railing of the loft before taking off his own sodden clothing. There was a second tunic, even rattier and more threadbare than the first. It smelled vaguely of sweat but it was dry and at the moment Berenger couldn’t bring himself to care about the details.

Ancel seemed steadier after he’d had some bread and ale, and Berenger polished off the rest before coming to lie down beside him. It seemed like second nature to pull Ancel into his arms and try to rub some warmth into his trembling body.

“I f-feel like shit,” Ancel managed after a while.

Berenger let out a startled laugh. If Ancel had the energy to complain, then the situation wasn’t completely dire. “I know,” he said. “Try to sleep. You’ll feel better soon, darling.”

“You’ve n-never called me d-darling before.”

Berenger flushed, thankful that it was too dark in the barn for Ancel to see. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking. I won’t do it again.”

“No,” Ancel whispered, tucking his head down to press his face against Berenger’s chest. “I liked it.”

“Alright,” Berenger said, stroking his hair. “Try and get some rest.”

“Okay,” Ancel said with a quiet sniffle.

Berenger managed to doze on and off that night, listening to the rain pattering against the roof while Ancel trembled in his arms, sniffling and mumbling in his sleep.

Thankfully the rain stopped by morning and Berenger was the first to rise as the sky started growing brighter with the coming dawn. Their clothes were still damp but they didn’t have any others and Berenger grimaced as he pulled on his cold breeches and boots. He kept the tunic on and covered it with his cloak, which was still wet but would at least keep out the wind.

He tore strips off the old blanket the woman had given them and wrapped them around Ancel’s feet as makeshift socks before helping him on with his own pants and boots.

Ancel’s cloak was even wetter, so Berenger fashioned one for him out of the remains of the blankets while Ancel stood miserably looking out the window at the dreary sky.

They left before dawn, just as they’d promised. They didn’t manage to reach a town by nightfall, and after the rain the previous day, everything was too damp to start a fire. They huddled together that night, Ancel’s body wracked with coughing fits that kept both of them awake. In the morning he had a fever.

Berenger knew with painful certainty that they couldn’t spend another night in the open like this. By his estimate, they were in Toutaine by now. He didn’t know the province very well and had no idea if they’d manage to reach a town by nightfall. But he knew Varenne like the back of his hand. He knew there was a midsize town due north of where they were- Marisse. They could reach it by foot within six hours or so.

It was risky, but no less risky than letting Ancel’s condition deteriorate.

Berenger turned them north even as he tried to convince himself this wasn’t a bad idea. He’d never spent very much time in Marisse as a Lord, and he certainly didn’t look the part of a Lord now. Even beyond the clothes- he had a thick beard coming in masking his features. Ancel wasn’t likely to be recognized at all, he’d never travelled through these parts. And besides- everyone knew Lord Berenger’s pet had hair as red as flame, not dirty blond locks.

Ancel was silent as they stumbled along until they finally reached Marisse. They’d need money for food and a room, for medicine. Berenger took them to a jewelry shop, careful to choose one he’d never frequented. It was empty of other customers, the proprietor an older man who stared at them suspiciously as they walked inside.

“I’d like to sell this,” Berenger said, taking out the emerald necklace and setting it down on the counter. Ancel sniffled and leaned heavily against his side, reaching out mournfully to stroke the stones one last time. Berenger felt a regret so deep that for a moment he couldn’t quite catch his breath. He remembered how utterly delighted Ancel had been to receive the gift, how his eyes had lit up with joy.

 _“I love them,”_ he’d said, his words overflowing with happiness. _“I love them. I’d sleep with you right now. I might even enjoy it for once.”_

But they couldn’t eat emeralds. They needed a place to sleep, they needed horses and supplies and fresh clothing. The necklace was the most lavish thing they had. If this went well maybe they wouldn’t need to sell anything else.

The shop keep picked up the necklace, looking it over with a critical eye. “I can offer you two hundred sol for it,” he said at last.

Berenger stiffened, the price like a slap in the face. “You’re joking. It’s worth at least five times as much.”

The shop keep put the necklace down with a glare. “You’re lucky to get even that.”

“Excuse me?” Berenger said, drawing himself up to his full height.

“You think you can sell stolen goods for full price?” the shop keep asked harshly, leaning forward with both hands on the counter. “What are you- some Lord’s guard? Fell in love with his pet, did you?” He glanced over at Ancel, who- despite the dirt, the messy hair, the fever and the plain clothes- was still painfully lovely.

“Maybe he fell for you too, and you lovebirds thought you’d make a run for it,” the shop keep sneered. “How romantic. Well- let me tell you how the real world works.”

Berenger couldn’t help being furious. People didn’t talk to him like this- with such blatant disgust and disrespect. But he supposed he didn’t look much like a Lord just now so he gritted his teeth before he could say something stupid.

“Most of the price of a piece like this is in the craftsmanship,” the shop keep continued, oblivious to Berenger’s anger.

“So?” he demanded.

Ancel coughed as he took Berenger’s arm, squeezing a little. “It’s too distinctive to resell,” he said hoarsely. “So he’ll have to pry out the stones and melt down the setting. All told the raw materials add up to less than the value of the finished piece. Much less.”

“Then we’ll go elsewhere,” Berenger said, his voice rising in anger. He’d spent an hour with a jeweler picking out emeralds that would best match Ancel’s eyes. He’d paid at least fifteen hundred sol to have the necklace made. He’d be damned if he’d take two hundred for it now.

“Go on then,” the shop keep said, waving to the door. “Take your chances- see if you get a better price.”

“No,” Ancel said quietly. “No, he’s right. No one will pay more.” He sniffled again and smothered a cough in his sleeve.

The shop keep’s eyes softened as he watched. “Two hundred and fifty,” he offered. “That’s the best I can do. Get your sweetheart some medicine.”

“Alright,” Berenger said. He felt utterly defeated as he watched the shop keep take the necklace into a back room and return with a bag of coin. He hadn’t expected it to go like this, but maybe he should have.

At least they had coin now.

Berenger took them to the nearest inn and got a private room with an adjoining bath, a rare luxury. But Ancel needed to get warm, and he’d feel better once he was clean. Berenger did most of the work getting Ancel undressed while he swayed unsteadily, then helped him into the bath.

Ancel hissed at the heat of the water and then just sat there, trembling with his arms wrapped around his knees.

“Too hot?” Berenger asked, reaching for the soap and the sponge.

“It’s fine,” Ancel managed before breaking out into another coughing fit. It was a wet hacking cough that made his whole body shake and left him breathing unevenly, a slight wheeze in every inhale.

Berenger washed his back and urged him to dunk his head under the water so he could push soap through his greasy locks. Ancel endured it miserably, trembling and too quiet. He was so pale, so thin. It was like the light had gone out of him and Berenger didn’t know what to do.

“Did I ever tell you,” he started thoughtfully, rinsing the soap out of Ancel’s hair. “You look quite fetching as a blonde.”

Ancel froze for a moment, his shoulders tensing before he relaxed all at once. “Oh?” he asked, turning his head slightly. There was a trace of the familiar sparkle in his eyes. “Is that what you prefer, my lord?” He was trying to be flirtatious but the effect was somewhat ruined by the way he sniffled, his nose running. Still, the fact that he’d tried at all made Berenger smile.

“The red was very fetching too,” Berenger said, pushing his fingers through Ancel’s hair. “I’ve never seen anyone with hair that shade of red before, never in my life. It’s something very special.”

Ancel leaned into his touch, closing his eyes. “It’ll grow out again,” he said.

“Yes,” Berenger said.

They sat for a while in silence until the water started to grow cold, and finally Berenger urged Ancel out and wrapped him in a drying sheet before leading him into the main room and tucking him into bed, still nude.

Ancel watched blearily as Berenger put a few more logs onto the fire already crackling merrily behind the grate. He didn’t want Ancel getting out of bed for anything while he was gone.

“Get some rest, darling,” Berenger said, coming closer cup the side of Ancel’s face with his hand and press a kiss to his forehead.

“Where are you going?” Ancel asked with a frown.

“I need to get some things for us,” Berenger said. “I’ll be back soon with supper. Sleep until then.”

Ancel didn’t seem satisfied with that answer, but he was obviously tired. This was the first time in a while that he’d been clean and tucked into a real bed in a warm room. Soon enough he was asleep.

It started raining again while Berenger was out but he braved the weather as he went about purchasing supplies and new clothing, a pair of waterproof cloaks. Two hundred and fifty sol- minus what they’d paid for the room- didn’t seem to stretch nearly as far as it should have. By the time he’d gotten everything, including medicine for Ancel’s cough and fever, he had barely a few dozen sol left.

There went the dream that they wouldn’t have to sell any more of Ancel’s things.

Ancel was still asleep when Berenger returned so he took the time to bathe and get changed into fresh clothing. He’d have to see about getting their things laundered somewhere, but that could wait.

Supper saw their coin purse depleting further, but it was worth it for the way Ancel’s eyes lit up when Berenger woke him to a tray of savory stew and fresh baked buttered bread, and even a small berry tart like the kind he liked. He was less thrilled with the syrup Berenger forced him to drink for his fever, or the sharp smelling salve that was meant to help his cough.

“It smells foul,” Ancel complained. He lay sprawled over the sheets with his face turned away and his arm thrown dramatically over his eyes while Berenger rubbed the salve into his chest. He’d purchased a linen shirt for Ancel with ruffles at the neck like the kind he’d liked, before. He’d liked them in silk, but the linen looked just as fine in the flickering firelight. His lips were full as he pouted. His skin was flushed and slightly damp from his fever, reflecting the light like the finest porcelain. For a moment he looked once more like the most expensive pet at court, petulant and lovely.

“But suddenly you have the energy to complain,” Berenger teased, “so it must be working.”

Ancel simply stuck out his tongue. After he went back to sleep Berenger made a quick inventory of their things, suddenly unsure of the wisdom of buying a horse. Horses were simply too expensive for their present situation. And yet, could they afford to stay on the road for as long as it would take them to reach Vask by foot?

Ancel was laid up sick for another four days, during which their finances dwindled dangerously. Berenger returned to the jewelry shop alone to sell the diamond earrings and a ruby-studded bracelet. He’d discussed their value with Ancel ahead of time, and was able to get a decent price.

It was enough to buy a horse- an old draft horse with bad eyesight and worse teeth. A horrible investment, normally. But Ancel had been right when he’d said they didn’t need a prize stallion. They just needed to get to Vask. The horse was unused to being ridden, but it had a placid temperament and was strong enough to carry the both of them. Even if Ancel had been well enough to ride on his own, they couldn’t afford two horses.

“What’s his name?” Ancel asked hoarsely when Berenger took him down to the stable at their inn.

“Her name,” Berenger said. Ancel was still pale but his fever had broken and he was coughing less. He stood in his plain clothes with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders over his cloak. There was a familiar disgusted frown on his face at the smell of horse, making a slight wrinkle appear between his eyebrows.

The horse blinked slowly and moved to butt her face against Ancel’s chest.

“Why don’t you name her,” Berenger said.

Ancel frowned harder, staring into the horse’s filmy eyes. “Wolf bait,” he muttered.

“Ancel,” Berenger said sharply.

Ancel sighed and rolled his eyes. “I don’t know!” He threw his hands up and the blanket slipped. He scrambled to catch it before it fell to the muddy ground in the stables, wrapping it back around his shoulders. Holding the blanket closed with one hand, he tentatively reached out with the other to stroke the horse gently on the face. He smiled a little, but when he caught Berenger watching the smile snapped to a frown. He pulled his hand away and looked down at the ground, toeing at a bit of dirty straw.

“...Daisy,” he ventured at last.

“Daisy,” Berenger repeated quietly. “A fine name.”

Ancel blushed and turned away. “I’ll go get our things from the room.”

“Don’t be long,” Berenger said and got Daisy saddled and ready.

They set out with Ancel riding pillion, though sometimes Berenger would walk to give Daisy a rest.

They headed south again into Toutaine before continuing east. The towns grew smaller, fewer and farther in between. It wasn’t so bad- over their slapdash journey they’d gotten better at camping. Berenger even took to drying sticks and small logs by the campfire to take along with them, ensuring they’d have enough dry wood for the next night.

As the sun was setting on the fifth day Berenger caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye and moved to throw his dagger on pure instinct. There was a thud followed by stillness.

“What was that?” Ancel asked sharply, turning in the saddle to see what Berenger had done.

“If it’s what I think,” Berenger said, walking off the side of the road and into the woods, “then it’s…” He grinned as he retrieved his dagger- along with the rabbit he’d managed to kill with a clean hit through the neck. He picked it up by the ears to show Ancel. “Dinner.”

Ancel grinned too. They’d been mostly getting by on dry rations and whatever food was cheapest in the places they’d been stopping. Neither of them had had fresh meat in ages.

“Let’s make camp early tonight,” Berenger suggested and Ancel nodded eagerly.

They found a suitable spot off the road close to a stream and Berenger took care of Daisy while Ancel got a fire started and laid out their bedrolls. Berenger came over afterwards with the rabbit, sitting down on a bedroll beside Ancel.

That was when he looked at the rabbit in his hand and realized he had no idea what to do next. He’d gone on hunts, but never alone. He’d always had guards, servants, _cooks._ He had no idea what to do with a fresh carcass. He stared at it in disbelief until he heard a snort beside him.

When he looked over he expected to face Ancel’s derision, but instead Ancel was laughing with unbridled delight.

“Ancel,” Berenger said in disbelief.

Ancel laughed harder even as he took the rabbit, pulling out his own small pocket knife. “Do they teach you Lords anything useful?” he managed through his giggles. “Anything at all? Or is it all reading poetry and managing ledgers?”

“Ledgers are very useful,” Berenger said as he watched Ancel deftly skinning the rabbit and cleaning it of its innards.

“Oh yes,” Ancel said, tossing the guts into the fire. “How dare I disparage the usefulness of _ledgers.”_

Berenger was dumbstruck. Ancel was _joking_ with him- not as a form of seduction, not as a calculated strategy to prove his value. He was simply having fun.

Berenger couldn’t help watching his hands as he set up a spit to roast the rabbit on. Even covered in blood and with dirt under his fingernails, his hands were still so elegant. He knew exactly what he was doing and Berenger had a hard time reconciling this version of Ancel with all the others he’d known thus far.

“Would you fetch some water?” Ancel murmured, focused on turning the spit so the meat wouldn’t burn.

Berenger stood and went to the stream, filling up their water skin. When he returned he helped Ancel wash his hands, and then they simply watched the fire for a while, their stomachs grumbling in anticipation.

“I’d always thought you grew up in the city,” Berenger said at last.

“I was part of a traveling troupe of acrobats as a child,” Ancel said easily, leaning back on his elbows. “I was the youngest so I got all the shit jobs- skinning rabbits, plucking chickens. Mending costumes. All sorts of things.” He looked over at Berenger with an easy smile. “You know. Useful things. Unlike reading poetry.”

“Poetry can be useful.”

Ancel raised his eyebrows.

“It’s entertaining at least.”

Ancel rolled his eyes.

“It is!” Berenger said.

“Oooooh! The white cliffs of Ios!” Ancel said dramatically, bringing his hand to his chest and throwing his head back as though he were howling at the moon. “Ooh! How the ocean sparkles under the sun like a field of diamonds! Ohhhh! Let me recount in painful detail the fifteen hundred ways in which King So-And-So twirled his sword and conquered his enemy King This-And-That-”

“Alright,” Berenger said, laughing. “And what’s your idea of entertainment, then?”

“Well,” Ancel said, sitting up to turn the spit. “Our troop leader was a right bastard, but he had a few decent ghost stories up his sleeve. Would you like to hear one?”

“Yes,” Berenger said. He felt utterly besotted all over again. He’d never known Ancel could have such an easy manner, could be so carefree. Never in his life had he imagined that they could be sitting together like this.

Ancel launched into a tale of ghosts and monsters, waving his hands in excitement and doing all sorts of different voices. Berenger was enraptured as he listened. Once the rabbit was ready they ate with relish, fat dripping down their chins without care. Ancel told another story, then another, talking late into the night while Berenger watched him, his heart fluttering in his chest.

Finally the fire grew low and Ancel yawned.

“You really are…” Berenger started, only to trail off.

Ancel looked at him expectantly. He looked sleepy and soft in the firelight, his expression guileless and open.

“Extraordinary,” Berenger finished. “You’re the most extraordinary person I’ve ever known.”

Ancel blushed, but maybe that was a trick of the firelight. “I’m- you don’t really think that.”

“I do,” Berenger said, reaching over to brush a strand of hair out of Ancel’s face, tucking it behind his ear. His hand lingered there of its own volition, fingers just brushing the soft skin of Ancel’s cheek.

Ancel stared back at him, the fire playing in his eyes. The moment stretched into something tense and shivering. Ancel leaned closer.

Somewhere close by a branch snapped and they both startled. But it was only Daisy, shifting from foot to foot as she grazed nearby. Abruptly Berenger was slammed back into the true awful reality of their situation and drew back with a quiet sigh.

“I’ll take first watch,” he said. “Get some sleep.”

“Alright,” Ancel said and moved to lie down, curling up under his cloak while Berenger turned away, looking into the fire dancing merrily before him.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Berenger stayed awake well past the time he’d usually rouse Ancel to take his turn at watch. There was something strange in the air, a feeling of foreboding he couldn’t quite shake. When the fire started to die down he didn’t add more wood to the flames, letting their cozy clearing grow darker and his eyes adjust to seeing only by moonlight.

It was quiet. Too quiet. It was as though the woods were entirely devoid of life. Following some long unused instinct, Berenger stood. The last time he’d felt this way was six years ago on the eve of the battle of Sanpelier, when the Akielons had launched a night-time raid.

Daisy snorted, flicking her ears as she shifted from foot to foot. Berenger pulled out his blades and stomped out the dying embers that remained of their fire as he peered into the woods around them. He was sure now, they weren’t alone.

“Who’s there?” he called into the night. Was it a group of simple travelers like them? Or had the Regent’s men found them?

“What’s the matter?” Ancel mumbled, stirring into drowsy wakefulness.

“Quiet,” Berenger said, not looking at him. “Stay down.”

There was a crack of a breaking branch to the left and Berenger turned sharply towards it. As he moved he caught a glimpse of metal reflecting in the moonlight and ducked just in time to avoid a crossbow bolt.

He used the motion to turn, hurling his dagger in the direction the bolt had come from. There was a pained grunt and then three men were rushing into the clearing.

They were dressed in worn leathers and Berenger felt a brief sense of relief- they were simple brigands, not trained knights- before they were coming for him. Daisy whinnied desperately, pulling on her lead as she tried to rear up on her hind legs.

Berenger couldn’t spare her any attention as he kicked the ashes of the fire into the face of one man while throwing his cloak at another. They fell back in confusion, which left him with only one man to contend with for the moment. His attacker raised a rusty sword to take a swing at him but Berenger knocked the blow aside with one of his bracers before stepping into the man’s guard and stabbing him in the neck with his dirk.

It had been a long time since he’d killed a man, but the hot sickening splash of sticky blood over his hand was familiar enough. He shoved the soon-to-be corpse away and turned to the remaining two bandits. They’d sorted themselves out and were advancing once more.

“Is this really worth it?” he asked, moving so he was standing between them and Ancel, who’d scrambled to his feet. “Two of your companions are already dead. Is any loot you might steal from us really worth your lives?”

One of the men- the one whose face was covered in ashes- sneered. They rushed at Berenger together, only to spring apart when something flew at them. Ancel had thrown one of their saddlebags. Berenger lunged at the closest man, ducking under his sword swing before punching him in the gut. When he doubled over with a shocked grunt Berenger stabbed him through the heart and pushed him to the ground before turning to face the last attacker. 

Except he wasn’t the last. There must have been five in total because there were two bandits in the clearing now and one of them was behind Ancel, covering his mouth with one hand and holding a dagger to his gut with the other.

Berenger froze. The man with ashes on his face smirked.

“Put down your blade,” he said, coming closer. Berenger could only stare into Ancel’s terrified eyes as he slowly held out his arm and dropped his dirk. Ancel made a muffled sound and the man holding him gripped him tighter.

“There you go, _my lord,_ ” the man behind Berenger said. So they were more than simple brigands after all. “Nice and easy. Hands behind your back.”

“Let him go,” Berenger said as he slowly moved to do as he was told and felt the man start to bind his wrists together with rope. “You’re after me, aren’t you? So let him go.”

“The Regent wants both of you,” the man holding Ancel said. “But he didn’t say you had to be in pristine condition, so settle down before you make this worse for yourselves.”

Berenger watched as Ancel closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath through his nose. His hand twitched and his pocket knife dropped into his palm from his sleeve. Whatever he was about to do, Berenger couldn’t look away from the blade hovering over his gut. But if they didn’t do _something,_ and _now-_ they’d be unlikely to escape later. They’d be dragged back to Arles and executed.

Ancel opened his eyes to stare at him. He knew it too.

He drove his knife into the bandit’s thigh.

The bandit howled with pain, letting go of Ancel in shock. Berenger reared up to slam the back of head into the face of the man who was tying his hands even as Ancel scrambled towards him.

Berenger turned and Ancel made quick work of pulling loose the half-tied knots. Once Berenger’s hands were free he grabbed the man with the ashes on his face and snapped his neck.

The last man was staring wide-eyed. He must have realized he didn’t stand a chance on his own because he turned and bolted. Berenger snatched the knife out of Ancel’s hand and took off after him. The man had barely made it to the edge of the clearing before Berenger was on him, tackling him to the ground and taking him by the hair to yank his head up, pressing the blade to his throat.

“How did you find us?” he demanded.

The man whimpered.

Berenger tightened his grip and yanked harder. “How did you _find us?”_ he growled into the man’s ear.

“You- you were recognized in Marisse. We’ve been on your tail since then.”

“Are there any others?”

“I don’t know!” the man yelped. “Maybe! I don’t know!”

Berenger slit his throat and let him drop to the ground before pausing to just _breathe._ There was still adrenaline rushing through him as he stood and turned to see Ancel staring at him wide-eyed. Ancel looked- afraid. Of what? Of _him?_

“Ancel,” Berenger said hoarsely, taking a half step closer. Was Ancel afraid of him after that brutish display of violence? Did Ancel hate him now?

Ancel took a sharp breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob and rushed forward, wrapping his arms around Berenger’s waist and pressing his face to his chest. He was trembling like a leaf in a gale. Berenger carefully raised his own hands, barely containing a flinch at the sight of them. His right hand was covered in blood. His left was better off, so he carefully set it over the back of Ancel’s head in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”

Ancel shook his head, letting out a loud shuddering breath.

“It’s alright,” Berenger said, still only slowly coming back to himself. The smell of blood was sharp and unpleasant, tugging him away to other times, other fights. Pulling him back towards battle. But the battle was over now.

He was standing in the middle of a forest in Toutaine with Ancel in his arms and Daisy on the other side of the clearing, shying nervously at the smell of blood.

“We have to go,” Berenger said, as gently as he could. “We can’t stay here. We have to go now, do you understand?”

“Yes,” Ancel said, pulling away. “Are- are you alright?” he asked, looking up into Berenger’s eyes.

“I’m not hurt,” Berenger said. Ancel stared at him a while longer before nodding and turning to go gentle Daisy and saddle her.

Berenger let himself take another deep breath, then steeled himself and went to collect his weapons and search the corpses. They had a few sol on them, so Berenger pocketed the money. One man had a sheet of parchment with a rough drawing of Berenger and Ancel on it- the way they looked now, not how they’d looked in Arles. Berenger tore it up and ground the pieces into the dirt. The bandits didn’t have anything else that was valuable or interesting so he turned away.

Ancel was staring at him from the other side of the clearing, holding Daisy’s reins in one hand.

“Let’s go,” Berenger said with a confidence he didn’t feel. “You’ll ride pillion for now. Is that alright?”

Ancel simply nodded.

“Alright,” Berenger said, mostly to himself.

They mounted up and left the bodies unburied behind them.

* * *

Things felt different between them, strained and off. The journey stretched on and on with no end in sight and Berenger wondered if he’d miscalculated the distance only to realize he’d miscalculated their speed. Used to the finest horses, he’d been imagining them traveling at a steady trot. But Daisy was too old for anything more than a slow plodding walk.

It was still better than taking the journey on foot- they didn’t have to carry their things on their backs, at least. But it wasn’t much faster.

That meant they were quickly running out of money once more.

They sold off more of Ancel’s jewelry. With every piece sold he seemed to grow quieter and quieter, until he wasn’t talking at all. Finally he had only the one ring left- a simple band decorated with a small peridot. He took to wearing it, spinning it around and around on his finger as he stared off into the distance.

Berenger asked after it once, wondering if it had some special meaning. They were sleeping in the stable of an inn that night. It wasn’t a particularly glamorous accommodation, but it was cheap and dry.

Ancel startled, looking over at him sharply. “It means I’ll be _damned_ if I finish with less than what I started with.”

It was the first thing Ancel had said to him in days and Berenger was taken aback by the vehemence of it.

Still, within the next few days the ring was gone and Ancel seemed more despondent than ever. But they were still getting by, more or less.

They reached Chamont, a town two weeks away from the border of Vask, entirely penniless. Berenger had meant to simply continue onwards, until he saw a crowd of townsfolk gathered around some sort of parchment pinned to the door of what he assumed was the town hall.

He pulled Daisy to a stop and dismounted. Ancel sighed and followed.

“I just want to see what the commotion is about,” Berenger said apologetically.

“Fine,” Ancel said. “I’m going for a walk.”

“A walk?” Berenger asked, confused. “Where?”

“Anywhere!” Ancel burst out, throwing his hands up. There were spots of color high on his cheeks and he refused to meet Berenger’s eyes. “I just need a break from looking at your stupid face all the time,” Ancel continued, his voice dripping with venom. “Is that too much to ask?”

Berenger drew back, shocked at how hurt he felt at Ancel’s tone, his words. He tried to answer but his voice came out in a dry croak. “No,” he managed. “That’s not too much to ask.”

Ancel set his lips in a tight line and turned away, disappearing down the street. Berenger watched him go, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. He felt bile rising in his throat and didn’t know why. He forced himself to swallow and take a deep breath, finally turning back towards the crowd, the parchment.

One of the townsfolk, an older woman, was carefully sounding out the words while the others listened with rapt attention. Berenger looked past her, reading quickly in silence.

It was a royal decree that Prince Laurent was a traitor to the Crown and to Vere. He’d allied himself with Damianos of Akielos, the prince killer. The decree went on to insinuate that Laurent was letting Damianos fuck him, making clear how disgusting and treasonous the Prince’s actions were. Laurent was to be put to trial, and any man or woman who could assist in his capture would get a handsome reward.

Berenger stepped back, reeling. Damianos was dead, wasn’t he? Could any of this be true or was it just more of the Regent’s lies?

He wouldn’t figure it out standing in the street. Halvik might know something- after all, Laurent had planned on passing through the mountains on the way to the border. Berenger had to go find Ancel so they could keep going.

It took longer than he thought it would, nearly an hour. By the end of it he was going mad with worry, and then he happened to walk past an alley and caught a glimpse of-

Ancel standing in front of a strange man, smiling up at him flirtatiously. The man was smirking. Berenger stared, not quite sure what was happening, right up until Ancel sank to his knees and the man went to unlace his trousers-

Berenger saw red.

“No,” he said as he let go of Daisy’s reins and stepped into the alley, his hands curled into fists.

Ancel, still on his knees on the dirty cobblestones, looked up in alarm. The man cursed and yanked his laces closed.

“What the fuck is this?” he demanded. “A set up?”

“Leave,” Berenger said, striding over.

“I already paid him five sol-” the man protested.

Berenger grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slammed his back against the wall, holding his dirk to the stranger’s jugular. _“Leave,”_ he snarled.

“Alright!” the man yelped before twisting away and running.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ancel demanded.

Berenger whirled around to see he’d gotten to his feet. “What am I doing? What are _you_ doing?”

Ancel scowled, stepping forward. “Did it escape your notice that we don’t have a single coin to our names?” His voice rose into something desperate and hurt, brittle with anger. “I’m done sleeping in pig pens! I’m done begging for scraps! I’ve done it enough times and I- I was supposed to be _done_ with it by now!”

Berenger exhaled sharply. Distantly he was aware that he was still holding his dirk and he moved to sheathe it at his belt. “Ancel,” he said carefully. “You don’t have to resort to… _that.”_

“Have you forgotten what I am?” Ancel laughed in disbelief. “I’ve resorted to _that_ my whole life. I’m a _whore._ It’s all I’m good for.”

“No,” Berenger said, his heart breaking in the face of Ancel’s conviction. “You’re so much more than that.”

“I was,” Ancel said, his voice low and wounded. “I was a pet in the royal court of Arles. But now-”

“I’m sorry,” Berenger said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why do you even care?” Ancel asked, wiping at his eyes. “You don’t want to fuck me. Why do you care if someone else does?”

“Ancel,” Berenger started.

“Why did you even buy me if you don’t want me?” Ancel asked shakily. “Why did you-”

“Ancel,” Berenger said sharply, stepping forward to wrap his arms around him.

Ancel sobbed, just once, raising his hands to clutch at the back of Berenger’s jerkin. For a while they stood in silence while Ancel cried silently and Berenger stroked his hair.

“I’m so sorry,” Berenger whispered, tilting his face down to press a kiss to the crown of Ancel’s head. “You’ve been so good to me, and you deserve better than what I’ve given you. I swear to you- we’ll eat a real meal tonight, and have a bath, and sleep in a warm bed. And if one of us has to suck cock for coin to make that happen- it’ll be me.”

Ancel jerked back to stare at him in shock. “What?! You can’t! That’s not how it works. You’re-”

“No one,” Berenger interrupted. “And nothing. It doesn’t matter. I won’t have you doing that anymore, never again.”

Ancel simply blinked up at him, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. There were still tears clinging to his lashes and Berenger reached out to brush them away. Ancel simply closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, releasing a soft breath.

“Do you even know how to do it?” Ancel asked, the hint of a smile on his lips.

Berenger smiled back in relief. “Do you really think I’ve never sucked cock before?”

“Yes.”

“You’re wrong,” Berenger said, pushing Ancel’s hair back from his face. “And even if I hadn’t, it’s not exactly complicated, is it.”

“How dare you,” Ancel said, taking Berenger’s hand. “It’s an art.”

“I’m sure,” Berenger said, leading Ancel out of the alley towards where Daisy was standing in the street, watching them curiously.

The sight of the old woman struggling to read the Regent’s decree had given him an idea that he wished he’d had earlier. He led the way to the town’s only tavern and bid Ancel to stay outside and watch over Daisy while he went in.

It was barely noon, so the tavern was nearly empty. The barkeep was yawning as he wiped listlessly at the bar with a dirty rag. He looked up with interest as Berenger walked closer.

“Care for a drink?”

“Not exactly,” Berenger said. “I’d like room and board for the night- free of charge.”

The barkeep snorted. “And I’d like a barrel of gold. Wishing don’t make it so.”

“I have a proposition.”

The barkeep snorted again, looking him up and down. “You ain’t my type.”

“Not that kind of proposition,” Berenger said with a smile. “I’m a traveling scribe. Surely a town this size could use my services? I’ll set up at one of your tables to do my work. It’ll bring people in, they’ll buy food and ale while they wait. The extra profit you’ll make will be well worth a room and some food. And a spot in your stables for my horse.”

The barkeep squinted at him suspiciously. Berenger stared back at him with all the certainty and authority he could muster, which was quite a lot. He was used to getting his way, and he’d get it now, too.

“Worth a try,” the barkeep said with a shrug. “Tell Tim in the stables that Alois said to take care of your horse. It’ll have hay- oats cost extra.”

“Thank you,” Berenger said with a nod.

He got Daisy settled in the stables and sent Ancel off to buy some writing supplies before going back into the tavern. Before he could be nervous about his plan, one of the patrons ambled over drunkenly.

“Heard you was a scribe?” the drunk man asked.

“Yes,” Berenger said stiffly.

“Got a letter from my sister,” the drunk man said, pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment. “Would you read it to me?”

Berenger read it, having to repeat himself several times before the man nodded and dropped a few coins on the table, stumbling off just as Ancel returned with parchment and a few quills. He reached into his bag and pulled out the silver inkpot he’d taken from Berenger’s desk back at Arles. It was still full of ink.

“Are you hungry?” Berenger asked, taking the items and setting them out on the table.

Ancel shrugged noncommittally but his stomach grumbled.

“Go talk to Alois about getting something to eat,” Berenger said, nodding over to the barkeep. “Tell him you’re my apprentice.”

“Alright,” Ancel said, resting his hand on Berenger’s shoulder for a moment before leaning down to murmur in his ear. “Friendly tip from one professional to another- get the money up front.”

Berenger shivered but Ancel was already gone and there was an older woman in front of him clutching some sort of parchment. It turned out to be a contract to purchase sheep at four sol a pound.

“He said six sol a pound, that rat bastard!” the woman hissed when Berenger got to that part.

“Then it’s good you haven’t signed yet,” Berenger said reasonably. “Would you like me to draft a corrected copy?”

She nodded and handed over a few more coins and he got started, talking out loud and explaining the various clauses as he went. Afterwards there was the transfer of a land deed, then another contract. A lot of people had letters they needed written or read to them and soon enough there was a small crowd building up.

Berenger paid it no mind until Ancel returned with a plate of fragrant roast meat and vegetables along with a cup of wine.

“I’m fine,” Berenger said absently. The next person was already sitting down across from him, clutching a dirty clump of papers.

“It’s supper time,” Ancel said reproachfully.

“Is it?” Berenger asked, looking up. It was true- he could see through the windows that the sun had set. The tavern was bustling. He shook out his aching hand as he stared at all the people still waiting. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes,” Ancel said with a grin. “And I’ve brought our things up to our room.”

Berenger took a closer look at him, surprised to note that Ancel’s hair was freshly washed and combed neatly. It had grown past his ears by now, the roots coming in red, and somehow Berenger hadn’t noticed. He was wearing a linen shirt, the one with the ruffles at the neck that Berenger had purchased for him in Marisse, the laces loose to reveal an enticing V of skin. He’d tucked the shirt into a pair of high waisted trousers, the buttons made of polished wood that shone like ivory.

Ancel handed him a brass room key, which Berenger took without looking away from him. He looked absolutely lovely. Even without his face paint and jewels, he looked finer than any pet at court.

“Eat,” Ancel insisted.

“I will,” Berenger said, forcing himself to look back at the table. “But take the wine for yourself. Drink makes my handwriting shaky.”

Ancel laughed and took up the goblet, taking a deep drink before running his fingers through Berenger’s hair and sauntering off… somewhere.

Berenger turned back to his work, watching out of the corner of his eye as Ancel talked and flirted with the other patrons at the bar, his cheeks rosy pink from the wine.

When the hour grew later, a group of musicians showed up and pulled out their instruments. The atmosphere grew more raucous. Normally Berenger would have been annoyed at working in such conditions, but Ancel was laughing and dancing on the other side of the room. There was a little girl standing on his feet and he held her hands as he twirled them around and around. As soon as the song was over a different child rushed in, a boy this time, and Ancel laughed as he did it all over again.

When the musicians packed up and left, Ancel came to sit by Berenger’s side, leaning heavily against his shoulder. He was relaxed and drowsy, smelling sweetly of wine. His lips were stained with it, leaving a mark on Berenger’s jerkin when Ancel nuzzled into his shoulder.

There were still people waiting, most of them chatting with each other and drinking ale.

“Won’t you come to bed?” Ancel murmured.

“Soon, darling,” Berenger said, feeling warm all over. Ancel didn’t mean it like that, but it was still nice to imagine. “Why don’t you go on ahead without me?”

“Mmm,” Ancel hummed, pressing a little closer. “Alright,” he said with a put-upon sigh before taking his leave.

Berenger worked for a few more hours, the tavern slowly emptying and growing dark. Finally, there was only one person left- a young woman that needed help writing a letter to her brother.

It was one of the easier jobs of the night and Berenger let his attention drift as he transcribed the woman’s words, his lettering simpler and a bit messier in his exhaustion. When it was done he slipped the parchment towards her and closed the cap of his inkpot, setting down his quill.

“Let it dry a bit before you fold it,” he said, stifling a yawn.

“Thank you,” the woman said with a smile before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a folded handkerchief. “I wanted you to have this.”

“You’ve already paid,” Berenger said with a faint frown. He unfolded the handkerchief and paused as he saw a delicate gold chain. There was a pendant hanging off it- a small drop of amber with bits of vibrantly green pine needles trapped inside.

“I can’t possibly accept this,” he said, looking up into the woman’s earnest eyes. There was something familiar about her but he was so tired he couldn’t quite puzzle it out.

“It’s amber from the northern forests of Varenne,” the woman said quietly. “It’s where I grew up.”

Berenger froze as he stared at her.

“It was a lovely place,” she continued, lowering her eyes. “My family was happy there. But six years ago, lightning struck our barn and it caught fire. My family and I tried to put it out but it was no use. We could only listen to our animals crying in fear.

“And then, out of nowhere- Lord Berenger rode up at the head of a column of knights. They were returning from the war, road weary and still covered in the blood of Akielons. He’d seen the smoke and come to help.”

The woman smiled. “You strike me as a man of Varenne. I’m sure you’ve heard such tales about our Lord time and time again.”

Berenger swallowed. He remembered her now, remembered hauling buckets of water for hours even after they’d gotten the animals out. Her name was Nanette. She’d made pot after pot of fragrant tea for his men and apologized profusely that they didn’t have the resources to feed them all, even after Berenger had assured her that it wasn’t necessary.

“So you see,” Nanette said, standing. “I’d really rather you keep it. For your... apprentice, perhaps. I’m sure he enjoys gifts.”

“Thank you, Nanette,” Berenger said quietly.

She looked startled and blushed brightly before lowering her eyes.

“The animals,” he said. “Did they make it?” His men had been so tired and so eager to get home that Berenger hadn’t the heart to keep them there once the fire had been put out.

“The horses took a long time to recover, and we ended up with a few singed chickens,” Nanette said. “But yes. They all made it.”

“I’m glad,” he said, and even managed a smile.

“Godspeed, my lord,” she whispered with a curtsy and turned to go.

* * *

Berenger’s hand ached, along with his back, his eyes, his neck. He packed up his writing things and trudged down to the cellar, where there was a bathing chamber fueled by hot springs. He soaked for a while to let his tight muscles loosen after nearly a full day spent bent over a desk.

It was worth it. He only wished he’d thought of it sooner. If he had, they might not have had to sell any of Ancel’s jewelry at all.

Alas, it wasn’t in his power to turn back time. But he swore to himself he’d find a way to make everything right, the way it should be.

He returned to their room with just a towel wrapped around his hips and his clothing draped over his arm. Ancel was sleeping soundly in bed, laid out like a lurid work of art- all pale skin and long elegant limbs. He was still in the ruffled shirt, though it had slipped off one shoulder enticingly. Everything about him was enticing, down to his wild mess of blonde and red hair splayed out over the sheets.

Berenger turned away and put on the cleanest tunic he had to sleep in, walking carefully to the other side of the bed. He tried not to jostle the mattress too much as he climbed under the blankets and then simply- sat for a moment, watching the even rise and fall of Ancel’s chest.

His eyelashes were dark over his cheeks, his pink lips slightly parted. Berenger remembered kissing those lips back in Arles, the way Ancel had climbed into his lap and wrapped his arms around him. It had been for show, but Berenger had meant it anyway. For a moment he’d let himself pretend that Ancel wanted him, and it had been bliss.

“Are we rich yet?” Ancel murmured, not opening his eyes.

So he wasn’t as lost to slumber as he appeared.

“Not quite,” Berenger said with a smile. “But I do have a gift for you.”

Ancel’s eyes fluttered open and lit up with delight. “A gift?”

“Yes,” Berenger said, turning to the nightstand where he’d set down Nanette’s handkerchief with the necklace wrapped up inside. He passed the bundle into Ancel’s hands and watched as Ancel sat up and unwrapped it with bated breath.

“Oh,” Ancel said in wonder, lifting up the chain to peer into the drop of amber. Berenger had worried that Ancel would stick his nose up at a gift that was so beneath what Berenger had been able to give him before, but he only looked delighted. “Is this… amber? I’ve never had amber before.”

“Yes,” Berenger said with a smile. “Amber from the forests of Varenne.”

“Help me put it on,” Ancel said, turning and lifting his hair.

Berenger fastened the necklace around his neck, each brush of his fingers against Ancel’s warm skin making him shiver.

“Do you like it?” Berenger asked once he’d pulled away.

Ancel smiled, stroking the pendant slowly. “I _love_ it,” he said and slid a hand into the hair at the back of Berenger’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Berenger gasped in surprise, getting lost in the warmth of Ancel’s mouth, still sweet with wine. Ancel’s hand was at the back of his neck, urging him closer, and the kiss was so painfully tender that Berenger felt dizzy. He couldn’t help leaning into it, answering it, before he finally forced himself to pull back.

“Ancel,” he whispered.

“What?” Ancel asked, blinking up at him slowly, his eyes unfocused with drink. “Don’t you want me? I want you.”

“I-” Berenger started only to break off and lick his lips.

“I see the way you look at me,” Ancel breathed out. “You want me. Please-”

“It’s not right,” Berenger forced himself to say, pulling out of Ancel’s grasp. “You’re drunk.” 

More than that- Ancel depended on him for his very survival. And Berenger depended on him just as much. He wasn’t blind to the fact that he’d be dead several times over if Ancel hadn’t intervened. It was dangerous to get involved when everything was so tangled up. Ancel couldn’t leave him, and Berenger couldn’t bear to see him go. It would make everything so complicated if they- if-

“I’m not that drunk,” Ancel said. He frowned, one of his hands drifting up to grasp the pendant. “Was I wrong after all? You don’t want me?”

Berenger closed his eyes, not sure about the right way to proceed. He should probably say _no_ and end this thing here, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie.

“I want you,” he said instead. “I’ve always- but I want- I want-”

“What?” Ancel asked.

“I want it to be- _fair,”_ Berenger said at last, not sure if the words were making any sense. “I don’t want you to feel obligated- I want you to be able to say no. I want- I want to be on equal footing.”

Ancel stared at him for a long moment before laughing and lying back down. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Am I?” Berenger asked, hopelessly charmed as he watched Ancel sprawl out over the sheets, taking up more than his fair share of the bed.

“Yes,” Ancel said, curling up on his side with a smile. “You are. If you won’t take me- hold me. Your stupid ideas of honor won’t get in the way of that, will they?”

“No,” Berenger said, lying down beside him and wrapping an arm around Ancel’s waist, pulling him close.

“Mmm,” Ancel hummed sleepily. “Are you sure I can’t entice you to-”

 _“No,”_ Berenger said, pressing his smile to the back of Ancel’s neck.

“Shame,” Ancel said breathily and drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: Regarding the peridot ring. If I'm remembering correctly, that was the first "gift" Ancel had ever received as a Pet during the first contract he weaseled his way into, which is why it had special importance. It was relatively cheap but clearly it had special meaning- the symbolic beginning of Ancel's career.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

Berenger woke with the sun and smiled to see that Ancel was still in his arms.

He extricated himself carefully, getting dressed as quietly as he could before going downstairs.

“Is there breakfast…?” he asked Alois when he made it down to the bar.

“Sure,” the barkeep said with a shrug. “Will you stay one more day? My brother’s coming in from his farm, and I know there’s others looking for your services.”

“We’ll have to leave by midday,” Berenger said.

“Yeah,” Alois said. “Give me a moment.”

He left and returned with a breakfast tray. Berenger took a few things off it- some toast, a boiled egg- that he knew Ancel wouldn’t miss. He took the rest upstairs and set it on Ancel’s nightstand before picking up his writing things and heading back down.

There were people waiting for him and he forced his aching fingers to write for a few hours before Ancel came downstairs and sat on the bench beside Berenger.

“Good morning,” Berenger said.

“Morning,” Ancel said, blushing faintly. So maybe he remembered the previous night after all.

Berenger managed to finish up in a few hours and they left Chamont before the sun grew too low, making it to another town by evening.

They repeated the routine, finding an inn and setting Berenger up as a traveling scribe. The next town was livelier, and at the end of the night Ancel excitedly recounted all the rumors he’d heard while talking to the townsfolk.

Some of them were too ridiculous to take seriously. Some of them were too troubling to consider for long. Berenger carefully pieced together the most plausible picture out of all the nonsense. It seemed Prince Laurent had somehow joined forces with Damianos in opposition to the Regent and Damianos’ bastard brother, the usurper of his throne. The Regent and his court had left Arles for Ios, a puzzling move. The only explanation was that the Regent and Kastor were working together as they tried to seize the thrones of their rightful rulers.

It made Berenger sick with fury, but at the moment he was powerless to do anything about it so he set it aside. He focused all his energy on getting them safely to Vask.

With each day the mountains loomed closer, and sometimes he saw Ancel looking up at them nervously, his face pale. It was understandable- the mountains looked formidable and cruel, their jagged peaks covered in snow.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Berenger said when they stopped for the night in a town close to the edge of the border. They had enough coin now that he didn’t need to play at being a scribe. They sat together in the main room of the town’s only inn, close to the fire. Ancel was playing with his cup of wine, spinning it around and around in his hands.

“There are passes,” Berenger said when Ancel looked up at him. “The road won’t be very treacherous if we’re careful.”

Ancel bit his lip before looking back down. “But the Vaskians. They’re… barbarians. Don’t they kill men for sport? What if they don’t want to help us?”

Berenger laughed quietly. “I wouldn’t call them barbarians to their faces. And they’re… quite reasonable in their own way. They’ll help us, I’m sure of it.”

“Why?” Ancel asked.

“Well,” Berenger said, taking a sip of his own wine. “As Lord of Varenne it was my duty to maintain good relations with the bordering tribes. I used to visit them several times a year with a complement of my most strapping young knights.”

Ancel seemed confused so Berenger smiled and nudged him in the side with his elbow. “Breeding stock,” he said conspiratorially. “For their coupling fires. It was a beneficial arrangement for all parties involved. No knight in my service has ever run off to sire illicit bastards in Vere.”

“Oh,” Ancel said, blushing. “And… did _you…?_ I mean- have you-”

“Ah,” Berenger said, blushing too now. “I’ve never been invited to- ah… _serve.”_

“Why not?”

“The Vaskians prefer… _larger_ breeding stock.” He laughed at Ancel’s scandalized expression. “It’s just as well. I don’t find myself attracted to women.”

“Not at all?” Ancel asked. “But- how were you going to take a wife? And make heirs?”

“I never intended to,” Berenger said simply. “I have an older sister,” he added at Ancel’s confused expression. “She’s married to the Lord of Ladehors. She has three fine sons- I’d intended to choose one of them to be my heir. I suppose it doesn’t matter so much anymore. The Regent will choose one of his own men to take Varenne now.”

“If he wins,” Ancel said.

“If he wins,” Berenger agreed, charmed by Ancel’s optimism. He’d long stopped thinking that was a possibility, but it was nice to consider it once in a while.

Ancel looked off into the fire, still fiddling restlessly with his cup.

“Ancel,” Berenger said, setting his hand on Ancel’s thigh to get his attention. When he looked up, Berenger continued. “I know I haven’t always… done the best job of it. But I’ll take care of you. I swear it.”

Ancel smiled and set his own hand over Berenger’s. “I know,” he said with easy trust in his eyes.

Berenger knew he’d die before he betrayed it.

* * *

It was colder the higher up they got in the mountains, the roads more treacherous. Luckily they only had to endure the solitary climb for two days before Berenger pulled them to a stop when he heard the distinctive sound of hoofbeats.

He dismounted, stroking Daisy’s neck while he waited.

Six giant Vaskian women rode up on shaggy mares, their hands on the pommels of their weapons. Berenger raised his own hands to show he was unarmed.

 _“We have business with Halvik,”_ he said in their rough Vaskian dialect.

The women exchanged confused glances among each other. He could tell by the patterns embossed in their saddles that they belonged to Halvik’s tribe. They clearly didn’t recognize him, but he recognized them.

 _“Kashel,”_ he said, looking at the woman at the head of their party. She startled, her eyes widening for a moment before she squinted suspiciously.

 _“It’s the wolf lord,”_ she said to her companions.

 _“And my man Ancel,”_ Berenger said, glancing up at Ancel, sitting tense and pale-faced in Daisy’s saddle.

Kashel laughed, jumping down from her saddle and striding forward to pull him up into a back-slapping embrace. _“What are you riding? It’s not fit for leather.”_

 _“Nevertheless- we’re quite fond of our Daisy,”_ Berenger said.

“What’s going on?” Ancel asked nervously. “What’s wrong with Daisy?”

“Everything’s alright,” Berenger said, setting his hand on Ancel’s thigh.

 _“Put her out of her misery,”_ Kashel said with a grimace. _“It’ll take hours to get her back to camp.”_

 _“We’ll take hours then,”_ Berenger insisted only for Kashel to roll her eyes.

_“Fine. Marka will stay back and bring her in. You two will take her horse.”_

Kashel directed the women with brutal efficiency.

“We’re leaving Daisy behind?” Ancel asked nervously as Berenger helped him down.

“Just for a little while,” he said. “They’ll bring her in while we take a faster mount back to their camp.”

“Alright,” Ancel said, still sounding unsure.

 _“Come along, wolf lord,”_ Kashel said with a grin. She tossed him a length of dark cloth. _“For your boy.”_

“I have to blindfold you,” Berenger said apologetically. “Is that alright?”

Ancel bit his lip before nodding and stood still while Berenger tied the cloth over his eyes before helping him into the saddle behind him. Ancel seemed to hold on a little tighter than he usually did when he rode pillion, but he must have been nervous while he was blindfolded. Berenger stroked his thigh soothingly before turning to Kashel.

 _“Race?”_ Kashel asked, her eyes glittering with mischief.

 _“I don’t think so,”_ Berenger said with a frown and Kashel laughed.

It took them a few hours to reach Halvik’s camp and Berenger dismounted before helping Ancel do the same. Ancel stumbled against him and Berenger caught him easily before pulling his blindfold away. “We’re here.”

“Here?” Ancel asked, blinking as he took in the clearing full of long hide tents and picketed horses, embers glowing in a large firepit at the center of it all. On feast nights there would be two fires, or more. There would be drums and dancing and show fights and hakesh, and a dais set up for Halvik. But this wasn’t a feast night, this was uninvited guests barging into the day to day life of a Vaskian tribe.

Before Berenger could worry about their welcome Halvik was striding over, a grin over her face. _“Lord Berenger!”_ she called out. _“Not the retinue we’ve grown accustomed to, but you’re welcome all the same.”_

 _“Thank you, Halvik,”_ Berenger answered, letting her drag him into a rough embrace.

 _“Look at you,”_ Halvik said, taking him by the shoulders and pushing him away. _“Is this the first time you’ve worn a beard? You almost look like a real man.”_

 _“Thank you,”_ Berenger replied with a small smile.

 _“And this boy. He is your… pet?”_ she asked, looking at Ancel.

 _“He is my everything,”_ Berenger said, stepping closer to set his hand on Ancel’s lower back.

 _“Bah,”_ Halvik laughed. _“You’ve gone soft. What happened to the wolf of Varenne who left a hundred bodies on the battlefield in Sanpelier?”_

 _“I can only hope I left him behind on that blood-soaked field,”_ Berenger said with a wince. _“We’ve come to ask for sanctuary.”_

 _“Sanctuary you’ll have,”_ Halvik said easily. _“Along with a meal, and a place to sleep, and a bath.”_

“What’s happening?” Ancel asked.

“They’re going to help us,” Berenger said, smiling in a way that was hopefully reassuring.

“Oh,” Ancel said, managing a tentative smile of his own.

After that it was a whirlwind. Halvik took them into the main part of camp and set them up at low tables by the fire before motioning over to one of the other women to bring food.

The sun was setting by then, a chill entering the air. Ancel pressed against his side and Berenger wrapped his arm around his waist to pull him closer, trying to arrange his cloak to cover the both of them.

 _“Have you news from Prince Laurent?”_ Berenger asked around a mouthful of the most tender venison he’d ever had. Ancel was eating enthusiastically beside him.

 _“He came through,”_ Halvik said with a smile. _“He looked well. Not as well as his Akielon. He served five of my girls. Kashel’s moonblood is late, we’re all hoping for a strapping girl.”_

_“How long ago was that?”_

Halvik shrugged. _“Some days and nights.”_

Berenger sighed. Vaskian ideas of time were notoriously vague. _“And since then?”_

_“We’re expecting a messenger from Vannes any day now.”_

‘Any day now’ could mean anything from weeks to months.

“What do they want?” Ancel whispered in Berenger’s ear.

Berenger turned to see Kashel and a few other women giggling as they petted Ancel’s hair while Ancel just looked confused and nervous.

 _“He is so pretty,”_ one of the women said.

 _“Like a girl,”_ Kashel added. _“Shame that he smells of the road. We could wash him, and dress him up, and braid his hair.”_

 _“We could drape him in furs,”_ another woman answered, her eyes gleaming. _“And prepare him for you with sweet oils-”_

 _“Don’t,”_ Berenger interrupted, blushing brightly. _“Don’t- don’t prepare him.”_

They giggled and whispered to each other while Ancel only looked more perplexed.

“They think you’re very pretty,” Berenger told him, enjoying the smile that lit up Ancel’s face. “They want to bathe you and dress you up and braid your hair.”

“Oh,” Ancel said, smiling even wider. “I suppose that might be alright.”

 _“He says yes,”_ Berenger told Kashel. _“But don’t- don’t touch him like that. Don’t do anything he doesn’t like.”_

 _“Of course,”_ Kashel said, rolling her eyes.

Nevertheless Berenger made sure to teach Ancel the Vaskian words for _yes_ and _no_ before sending him off with his giggling admirers.

 _“You could raise an army,”_ Halvik said abruptly. Berenger just stared at her while she grinned. _“Leave Vere to its scheming, take Varenne for yourself.”_

Plunder and pillage, she meant. The Vaskian way. _“No,”_ Berenger said, smiling despite himself. _“What troops I had left after Marlas I sent south as reinforcements for Prince Laurent. Even if I hadn’t- Varenne can’t stand up to the might of Vere alone.”_

 _“Go North, then,”_ Halvik continued. _“Take some men and build a new kingdom.”_

Berenger could only laugh at the thought of taking a mismatched troupe of men into the frigid wilderness beyond Varenne. It was madness.

 _“So what will you do?”_ Halvik asked. _“With your new beard, the Empress might take you as a concubine. Or maybe you and your boy could become brigands on the mountain roads. Maybe you could go down to Akielos- sell the secrets of Vere to the highest bidding Kyros.”_

 _“Vere is still my homeland,”_ Berenger said firmly. _“I will not betray her, no matter who sits on the throne.”_ He toyed idly with his cup of wine, staring into the fire. _“I thought we might go down into Patras, make a life for ourselves. We’ll leave behind Lord Berenger and pets and masters and just… live.”_

 _“Yes,”_ Halvik said, looking into the fire too. _“A fine enough plan, for if he loses. Stay until the messenger comes. He may yet win.”_

* * *

Berenger went off to the hot springs to bathe before heading back to his tent. It was the usual one Halvik had set up for him when he visited- a bit bigger than normal, and equipped with a low writing desk as well as furs that served as bedrolls. Usually when he visited he would catch up on his correspondence while his men fucked with abandon at the coupling fire. This time he had no correspondence to catch up on, but it was still nice to have the extra space.

There were a few candles lit inside when Berenger pulled back the tent flap to come in.

He paused at the threshold, suddenly unable to quite catch his breath.

Ancel was waiting for him in the tent, sprawled out invitingly over the furs. He was nude but for a scant Vaskian loincloth. His hair was pulled back from his face by elaborate braids and his eyes were lined with kohl, his cheeks and lips unnaturally red with rouge.

“Do you like it?” Ancel asked in the face of Berenger’s silence. “The girls helped me. When I told them you haven’t ravished me yet they were appalled.”

“They were-” Berenger managed. He couldn’t quite think properly.

“Get inside,” Ancel said. “You’re letting in the cold.”

Berenger stepped inside the tent, not quite large enough to stand up in. He sank to his knees, still staring at all the lovely bare skin before him. He’d seen Ancel naked before- when he’d been sick, when he’d been in the ring. This was different. This was not a matter of circumstance, this was for _him._

“Don’t you like it?” Ancel asked.

“I-” Berenger managed.

Ancel moved to wrap his hand around Berenger’s neck, pulling him closer. Berenger managed to brace himself on the furs to either side of Ancel’s face, his breath coming fast.

“Ancel,” he whispered, not sure why he was protesting anymore but sure that he should. “We can’t-”

“Why not?” Ancel pouted. “You said it yourself. You’re not a Lord, and I’m not a pet.”

“I don’t-”

“I gave up _everything_ for you,” Ancel said vehemently. “Everything. Show me what it’s all been for.”

Berenger couldn’t think straight with Ancel’s lithe body on display before him. He fancied himself an honest man, an honorable man. He fancied himself to be strong and chivalrous, but he was still only a man while Ancel was a wildfire.

“Please,” Ancel breathed out, and just like that, Berenger’s resolve shattered.

He leaned in and kissed Ancel, his eyes fluttering closed. Ancel kissed back with abandon, moaning into his mouth and wrapping his arms around Berenger’s shoulders, drawing him closer.

Ancel’s mouth was delicious, his lips hotter than flames. Ancel’s hands were sliding over Berenger’s back, rucking up the tunic before dragging it off. They had to break away from each other for a shuddering moment while Ancel dropped the garment to the furs and then Berenger took him in his arms, gasping as their bare chests pressed together.

He rolled so Ancel was on top, so he could slide his hands down his back and over every inch of his body. Ancel trembled and Berenger could feel his hardness through the layers of cloth that still separated them.

Ancel moaned prettily and Berenger froze, sinking his hand into Ancel’s hair to pull him back.

“What-” Ancel asked, panting.

“Don’t do that,” Berenger said with a frown. “Don’t pretend with me.”

“I-” Ancel flushed, frowning too. “I always pretend. I’m good at it.”

“Not that good,” Berenger said with a small smile, letting go of Ancel’s hair to stroke his lower lip with his thumb. The rouge was smeared and messy and so delightfully imperfect. “I can tell when you’re faking now. So don’t.”

“Not _at all?”_ Ancel asked incredulously. “Even if you’re bad at it?”

Berenger laughed at the thought that Ancel might be trying to play up his own pleasure just to coddle Berenger’s ego. “Faking is what pets do, and you’re not a pet. Besides, if I’m bad at it and you pretend to like it I won’t get any better, will I.”

“So- it’s for you, then,” Ancel said, but he was smiling slyly. “For your education.”

“For my education,” Berenger agreed.

“Well, in that case,” Ancel muttered before leaning down again. He kissed differently that time, less careful, more wet. He thrust his tongue into Berenger’s mouth and Berenger answered in kind, careful to pay attention in case Ancel’s resolve not to pretend began to slip.

Ancel was quieter after that, shuddering and making small bitten off sounds rather than demonstrative moans. Berenger set out to figure out what he liked for real, feeling victorious every time he found a sensitive spot that made Ancel’s breath hitch and his hips shift, rutting against him.

By the time his hands made it down to Ancel’s ass the loincloth was twisted, the knots keeping it fastened on the verge of slipping open completely. It was so easy to brush the meagre fabric aside and take Ancel’s ass in both hands, gripping tightly. They both gasped at that, and as Berenger touched him, sliding his fingers closer to his entrance, he found him slick with oil.

“Oh,” Berenger breathed out, aroused and concerned all at once. “I told them not to- did they…?”

“I did it myself,” Ancel whispered, breathing harshly against his ear and shifting restlessly in his lap, trying to grind his cock against Berenger’s hip. “While I- while I waited for you. I lay here and prepared myself and- and thought of how you’d look at me, if you were watching. What you’d say.”

“Fuck,” was the only thing Berenger could say, slipping his fingers down to touch him where he was slick and open, ready. “You’re sure that’s what you want tonight?”

“How many times do I have to throw myself at you before you stop being an idiot?” Ancel huffed out.

“I think this might be the last time,” Berenger said, moving to take Ancel’s lips in a kiss as he pressed a finger inside him. He groaned at the tight heat, the easy slide. Ancel arched his back with a quiet moan- a real one, Berenger was sure of it- as he tried to push into Berenger’s touch.

Berenger gave him another finger, enjoying the feel of him, the anticipation of more soon.

“I’m ready,” Ancel panted against the sweat-damp skin of his neck. “I’m ready. Would you just _do_ it?”

“I like you like this,” Berenger said, moving to tease at Ancel’s earlobe with his teeth. “Writhing in my arms, begging me for more.”

“You’re a monster,” Ancel groaned, his hips moving restlessly in search of stimulation.

Berenger chuckled, teasing him a bit longer before finally pulling his fingers free and turning so it was Ancel with his back against the furs. Regretfully Berenger pulled away so he could take off his trousers. When he looked back it was to see Ancel shifting so that he was on his hands and knees.

“What are you doing?” Berenger asked.

Ancel frowned. “Do I have to explain this to you every step of the way?”

Berenger could only laugh at his disgruntled expression. “I only meant- surely you didn’t get all made up for me just to hide your face in the furs?”

Ancel sat up so he was kneeling, looking perplexed.

“I want to look at you,” Berenger said.

“Oh,” Ancel said, blushing. “Usually I…”

“You don’t want me to look at you? At how beautiful you are?”

Ancel blushed harder. “Of course I do,” he said, his voice full of bravado that hid uncertainty. 

Surely he didn’t doubt how lovely he was? Abruptly Berenger realized that wasn’t it. He was used to getting fucked with his face in the sheets while his owner pretended he was a girl. It wasn’t an uncommon role for pets to take, given the strict social conventions regarding bastards. The thought of it made Berenger furious, but he pushed that aside. Now wasn’t the time.

“Oh, they’ve just been _wasting_ you, haven’t they,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss Ancel and press him down against the bedding on his back, settling between his legs. The tent was small enough that he could reach over to the low table and he grabbed one of the vials of oil set upon it. No doubt they each had their own array of smells and properties, but at the moment he only cared about which one was closest.

“And you won’t?” Ancel asked playfully, some of the uncertainty fading in favor of a smile.

“I’m going to ruin you for other men, darling,” Berenger promised, pulling open the vial of oil and hurriedly slicking himself.

“You’re awfully sure of yourself,” Ancel said, spreading his legs invitingly.

Berenger leaned over to kiss him hungrily while taking himself in hand and lining himself up. He teased at Ancel’s opening a bit, just to rile him up and get him to clutch at Berenger’s shoulders, making impatient sounds into his mouth. Finally he pushed in, slow and careful as Ancel shuddered and stilled beneath him. Ancel turned his head away from their kiss to pant, his plump lips parted and his eyes screwed shut, his lashes a dark smear over his cheeks.

He was trembling, his eyebrows drawn down a bit so a crease formed between them. His nails were digging into Berenger’s shoulders but his legs fell open wider. Berenger watched him, overwhelmed by the heat of his body and the pleasure written over his face. He moved back a bit before pressing in, working into Ancel in easy rocking thrusts.

“Alright?” he whispered hoarsely.

Ancel managed a quiet needy whimper and raised his legs to wrap around Berenger’s waist, trying to pull him in closer. Berenger mouthed at the delicate skin of his throat as he kept up his steady motions until he was inside to the hilt, pausing to brush Ancel’s hair back from his sweaty forehead.

“Don’t stop,” Ancel said, a tone of petulance in his voice.

“Look at me,” Berenger said. “I want to see you.”

Ancel huffed out a small annoyed sigh before turning his head back to look at him. His eyes were slightly unfocused, his cheeks flushed. Berenger stroked the side of his face gently before bringing their lips together in a languid slide, and then he started to move for real.

Ancel moaned, rough and unstudied. Berenger smiled against his mouth and slipped an arm under his waist, hiking his hips up into a better angle. Ancel moaned louder at that, his legs tightening into a vice-like grip around Berenger. He moaned with every thrust after that, his cock hard and leaking between them.

“Like that?” Berenger asked, pulling back to kiss the delicate skin behind Ancel’s ear.

Ancel cried out when Berenger dragged his teeth down his neck, and moved his hand to grip Berenger’s hair. They moved together easily, the slick sounds of their joining obscene in the intimate stillness of the tent.

“Please,” Ancel muttered between sharp gasps. “Please, please-”

Berenger had one arm around Ancel’s waist, the other braced on the ground beside him. He couldn’t get a hand in to stroke Ancel’s cock, and even if he could have- there wasn’t enough space between their bodies to manage it. 

He had a feeling it didn’t much matter with the way Ancel was clenching and shuddering around him.

“You feel so good,” Berenger murmured into his ear. “So perfect.”

“Fuck,” Ancel managed. Berenger could feel his heart pounding everywhere they were touching. He couldn’t look away from the abandoned pleasure written over Ancel’s face.

“You can finish like this, can’t you? You’re so close.”

“Fuck,” Ancel burst out again. His whole body was coiled tight like a spring and Berenger hiked his hips up a bit higher, speeding up. “Oh god,” Ancel whimpered, arching into him.

“There you are, darling,” Berenger whispered. “You’re just there. Can you come for me?”

Ancel cried out, shuddering. Berenger felt the wet spill between their bodies as he continued fucking into Ancel, at the edge of his own release.

 _“Berenger,”_ Ancel moaned breathily and Berenger screwed his eyes shut, burying his face against the curve of Ancel’s neck as his own pleasure reached its climax. He kept thrusting, his rhythm stuttering as he lost control with a groan.

It seemed to last for ages and left Berenger breathing hard, caught in the grip of Ancel wrapped around him before he carefully drew back and Ancel let him go, sprawling boneless over their bedding. Berenger was still fighting to catch his breath but he leaned in to pepper kisses over Ancel’s lips and face until Ancel laughed and swatted him away.

They rearranged themselves carefully to lie side by side, their skin slowly cooling.

Eventually Berenger managed to sit up and look around. There was a basin of water and a cloth on the table and he reached for them. He moved in a daze. It felt like a struggle just to get his arms to work but somehow he managed it, carefully wiping the paint off Ancel’s face before moving to wipe down the rest of him.

“Are you alright?” he asked fondly.

Ancel’s lips curled up into a smirk before he opened his eyes to look at Berenger. “You’ve left me very unsatisfied,” he said while Berenger cleaned his spend off his pale stomach. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to do all that again.”

* * *

They ended up fucking again that night, slow and lazy with Ancel on his side and Berenger behind him, stroking his chest and thighs before finally giving in to Ancel’s wordless pleas and touching him where he really wanted it. In the morning Berenger showed off his cock sucking skills while Ancel whimpered and writhed beneath him, clutching at his hair.

They got dressed afterwards to head out for breakfast, Ancel relaxed and pliant as he sat practically draped against Berenger’s side as he ate.

Kashel and a pair of giggling girls came over and Ancel grinned at them, perking up. They spoke with an odd mix of basic Veretian and Vaskian words and copious use of hand gestures that Berenger found hard to follow.

 _“Finally, wolf lord,”_ Kashel said with a knowing smirk before sauntering off.

Berenger blushed while Ancel nonchalantly turned back to his breakfast. “You told them about last night?”

“And this morning,” Ancel said. “Looks like you can make a living with your mouth after all. I’m impressed.”

“That means a lot,” Berenger said wryly, “coming from you.”

 _“Good night?”_ Halvik asked, sitting beside him.

“Yes,” Berenger said stiffly.

 _“Maybe we should have had you serving at the coupling fires after all,”_ she said with a wink. _“Such stamina.”_

“I’m not sharing,” Ancel said, understanding the tone if not the words.

“Don’t worry, lovely boy,” Halvik said to him in thickly accented Veretian. “We won’t take him from you.”

“Good,” Ancel said, leaning his head against Berenger’s shoulder.

 _“The messenger from Vannes,”_ Berenger started.

 _“Easy,”_ Halvik said. _“It comes when it comes. Is our hospitality not good enough for you?”_

_“Of course, we appreciate-”_

_“Of course,”_ Halvik interrupted with a laugh. _“Enjoy your rest, your pet, the weather. It will be some days and nights.”_

Berenger nodded to her, resolved to try and keep his worrying to a minimum.

Ancel’s company made it easier. He was insatiable, dragging Berenger away at the slightest provocation. It was hard to worry with Ancel naked in his arms, touching him, kissing him. When they weren’t busy fucking Ancel would spend time with Kashel and the other women, helping around camp while Berenger went along on hunts to try and earn their keep.

Still, he found himself growing restless.

 _“Perhaps I can borrow a horse,”_ he told Halvik at dinner. There was a proper feast that night, with dancing and wrestling matches around the fire. _“I could go down into Varenne, see if there’s any news at an outlying village. It would only take a day or two-”_

 _“And what will the peasants have to tell you about the movements of their Prince?”_ Halvik asked with a scoff. _“Rumors and hearsay. Wait for the messenger. Any day now.”_

“You’re trying to run off, aren’t you,” Ancel said accusingly.

“No,” Berenger said, blushing.

“I can tell when you’re lying too, you know.”

Berenger sighed. “I thought to go down to an outlying village to see if there’s any news, but Halvik is right. It’s not worth the risk to catch a few wild rumors.”

 _“Halvik is much wise,”_ Ancel said to Halvik in rough Vaskian. Halvik laughed and poured them both a cup of hakesh.

“Is this the famed Vaskian aphrodisiac?” Ancel asked with glee.

“Yes,” Berenger said, accepting his cup and staring into it uncertainly.

“Cheers,” Ancel said, his eyes glittering mischievously as he tapped his cup against Berenger’s and downed it in one go. He raised an eyebrow as if in challenge, so Berenger drank too. Halvik refilled their cups.

The display fights turned to lovemaking as couples went to the furs laid out around the fire. Ancel giggled, red-faced, beside him.

“I like this drink,” he announced.

“Do you,” Berenger said, drawing Ancel closer. His skin was buzzing with desire, and he could tell Ancel could feel it too. His lips were _right there_ so Berenger leaned that tiny bit closer.

They kissed a while before Ancel dragged him down to the fire with the other couples and they made love, at length, for most of the night.

Berenger woke a few hours past dawn to squint up into the clear blue sky. Ancel was still sleeping on his chest, the both of them nude but for a few furs haphazardly draped over their bodies. The fire had died down to glowing embers, radiating pleasant heat.

He and Ancel weren’t the only ones similarly indisposed after the previous night’s festivities so Berenger didn’t feel particularly embarrassed as he moved to absentmindedly stroke Ancel’s hair.

“Well, well. Isn’t this a sight,” came a familiar voice.

Berenger looked up to see Vannes standing beside him, her giant pet at her shoulder.

“We all thought you were dead, but here you are- having a grand old time while war rages on the border.”

“Vannes,” Berenger said, propping himself up on his elbow. Ancel grumbled as he was dislodged from his resting place. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes.

“Berenger,” Vannes said with a sly smirk. Surely she wouldn’t be smirking like that if she’d come with bad news? But sometimes with Vannes it was difficult to tell.

“Well?” he demanded, sitting up further. The furs slipped down precariously and he paid them no mind. “What’s happening? What news is there of the Prince?”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t care to get dressed first?” Vannes asked, raising her eyebrow. “Maybe go for another round with your pet, have some breakfast.”

 _“Vannes,”_ Berenger said sharply.

Vannes drew the moment out a bit longer, until her pet set a hand on her shoulder and laughed. “Have some pity,” she murmured.

“It’s actually Councilwoman Vannes now,” Vannes said. “And Councilman Berenger, as a matter of fact.”

Berenger’s heart skipped a beat. “You mean-”

“I mean get dressed, Councilman. There’s work to be done in Arles in preparation for our King’s return.”

“Oh,” Ancel said with a bright smile. “He’s won.”

  
  


_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at [barbitone](http://barbitone.tumblr.com/) and pillowfort also at [barbitone](https://www.pillowfort.io/barbitone)


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